


Rump Roast

by UnaghKunn



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Birthday Spankings, Boners, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnaghKunn/pseuds/UnaghKunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, when I was growing up, there was this one tradition that none of us ever seemed to escape.”</p><p>In which Emmy shares a birthday tradition with the Professor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rump Roast

**Author's Note:**

> I calculated Layton's age from the stated years between events in his life, as mentioned in the games. He was 17 in MM, and as it takes place 18 years later, that would place him at 35 years old. So, at the birthday after that game, he would be 36.

“You know, when I was growing up, there was this one tradition that none of us ever seemed to escape.”

Layton looked up from the pieces of pottery he was attempting to piece together to determine how a vase might have looked in its original state. Emmy was slipping the birthday cards he had received from students onto a piece of string stretched across the top of the bookcase.

“And what, may I ask, was that tradition?” Layton questioned, setting down the pottery and turning to her. He had never been entirely fond of the attention his birthday garnered from friends and colleagues alike, much less his students, much less… one particular student, who always went out of her way to send the most embarrassing cards. Emmy winked as she hung THAT card on the piece of string. Layton swallowed hard, his cheeks burning slightly. “Dare I ask, for that matter?”

Emmy laughed, and folded her arms. “Nothing like Miss Stone expects, certainly,” she grinned. “But it was certainly considered good luck to receive a proper rump roast.”

Layton stared for a second, and then frowned. “Rump… roast…?”

To say he was confused would have been something of an understatement. Was she referring to receiving a cooked meal, or…

Emmy shook her head, and tutted. “You might be more familiar with the tradition in a different explanation,” she told him, her smile turning mischievous. Layton felt his pulse quicken at that expression, because it usually meant trouble. “On your feet, Professor!”

“Might I ask what you intend?” Layton asked as he got to his feet. Emmy just tugged at him, positioning him by his desk, and pushed at him so he was leaning over it. “I-I say! Emmy!” He protested as his hat fell off onto the desk. He glared back over his shoulder at her. “This is most undignified—“

He was cut off by Emmy’s hand landing with a crack on his backside. Layton inhaled sharply, jerking slightly as the blow took him by surprise, and then as if in sympathy with his backside, his cheeks blossomed with bright red warmth. He was, to put it simply, struck speechless.

“So, have you been a good boy this year?” Emmy teased, grinning.

Layton struggled to string together the words to express himself, and then at last, found his voice. “Truly, I have at least endeavoured to be a True Gentleman…” At his waist, Emmy was fumbling with his belt, and unzipping his trousers, lowering them – along with his boxers – down around his knees. There was a faint red mark on the Professor’s sit spot already from the first blow.

Emmy chuckled softly, nudging his legs apart with her knee. “Then you shall get what you deserve for each year,” she purred softly, ghosting her hand over the Professor’s backside. The sensation certainly wasn’t unpleasant, and he let loose a soft sigh at the feeling. Then, her hand was gone.

“Thirty-six in total, I believe,” Emmy quipped, “one for each year – and one more for good luck, taking it to thirty-seven.” She grinned, raising her hand. “Ready, birthday boy?”

“I don’t believe I have any choice in the matter, do I?” Layton replied with a wry expression.

There was no reply. Only the resounding CRACK of Emmy’s hand on his bare backside. Layton bit down on his lip to keep from making any sound. If he was going to receive such treatment, at the very least he could maintain at least some semblance of dignity by refusing to allow himself to complain. A True Gentleman, after all, faces his trials with honour and strength.

Layton was just glad his office door was locked.

Still, by the time Emmy got to twenty strikes, the warm burn had become a dull ache that spread to down between his legs and up into his back. Emmy kept going strong, counting out each as she went along, and made no comment on the stiffening of his member.

Finally, the thirty-sixth strike came, which Emmy announced as, “thirty six! And one more for luck!” There was one last smack across the Professor’s sit spot, and at last, he let loose a groan. “All done!”

Layton slumped slightly against his desk, glad that his assistant was done torturing him. There was silence in the room, and then, Emmy gently rubbed his back.

“Professor, are you alright?”

There was genuine concern in her voice as she surveyed his slumped figure. His backside glowed red and he looked somewhat tired and tense and…

“I will be… fine…” Layton breathed, trying to stand. His posture promptly faltered, and he fell into Emmy’s arms. He sighed, leaning into her for support. There was no way she could fail to notice the other bodily reaction to her rough treatment. Emmy just smiled gently.

“I think someone deserves a reward for bravely facing their rump roast,” she commented, reaching down and lightly caressing the Professor’s erection. He let loose a breathy moan, which turned into a low rumble of discontent as Emmy carefully laid him on the couch.

“Close your eyes, and let me take care of you, Professor,” Emmy told him softly. “After all, I am responsible for your condition.”

Layton laughed softly. “Yes, my dear, you are.” He smiled, and winked at her. “Remind me to treat you to a… ‘rump roast’ of your own when your birthday arrives.”

Emmy just bit her lip and tried not to look shocked or embarrassed by the prospect, focusing instead on the Professor’s condition, and his reward…

**END**


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